Memories
by annastern2009
Summary: Silence. Years ago, Tango would have laughed had anyone told him he would choose silence more often than not.; Steve/Tango


The house felt too cold to him, but that was alright. It was always cold to him, no matter where he was. He was starting to accept that, not that he liked it. Slipping into a jacket never helped anymore, neither did wrapping a thick blanket around his body. The coolness was all in his mind, he had figured that out a while ago, so it never surprised him that, when he was curling into himself to stay warm, the others would give him strange looks. They had long gotten used to how he acted, though. His little quirks now, his strange behavior, or red eyes; the TAPS team knew better than to ask if he was okay. Two years later, and the answer was always the same. No. He would never be okay again.

Hands dipped into the cardboard box Tango kept in the closet, sitting in front of it like he normally did. He hardly noticed the presence of another figure in the room, lounging back on the bed. They knew that this was a nightly occurrence, and also knew he wouldn't explain why he did this. His hands moved through the contents inside, things that would seem rather strange to others as to why he kept them in here, why he made sure to look at them every night.

The red feathers from the boa tickled his skin as he ran it through his hand, his fingers closing around it as he did so…

"_Tango, close your eyes. Turn around."_

"_What are you doing?"_

"Here, man."

"_What?"_

"This, right here, you just gotta wear for like, the next hour."

"_Oh yeah?"_

"Not the whole time, just a little bit."

"Can I open my eyes now?"

_"Yeah."_

"Niice!"

"Look in the mirror. See? That's not too bad."

Almost as fast as it had came into his mind, the memory slipped, much like the boa did from his fingers. That was alright, though, Tango was just happy he still had that memory. All of the items in this box were here just for that reason: to make sure he never forgot anything that had happened, not matter how embarrassing or cruel. He cherished them all. His lips pulled into a slight smile as he picked up the little plastic tiara next. Yes, this was one of the embarrassing ones, but he still loved it….

"_Now, this is like your last right into TAPS, okay?"_

"Okay"

"_Look that way. You feelin' it?"_

"I'm feelin' in."

"_Andy!"_

"_Nice. You got a lot nicer one than I did."_

The plastic fell through his fingers much like the boa had, clinking into the other objects he had in the box. There were a few more he knew other's would understand possibly, like his red SkullCandy headphones. They might even understand the reasoning behind the mirror covered in cooking spray. Each item held a major significant meaning to him, though. His nimble, numb fingers picked up the little toy van he had let sit in the box, his fingers making the tiny wheels on the bottom spin.

"_Here, dude, I got you this."_

"Seriously? Steve, why do I want a little van? I'm not seven."

"No shit, really?"

"So, why am I being given this?"

"This is going to sound really gay. But, I figured since you can't be at TAPS for a while because of, you know, the death in your family and whatnot, that you could hold onto this. As a reminder that we're all here for you, and that your van is waiting for you whenever your done."

"_Oh…well, uh, thanks man."_

That month away had been hard, but he always had that little van with him for the exact reason Steve had told him. In a way, he gave his quick return much thanks to that little vehicle. Just like with the past items, the memories he went over nightly, he let them slip from his head and hand, falling into the bottom of the box. Just as he was about to pick up the baseball cap, to finger the yellow TAPS logo on it, he felt the familiar arms wrap around his waist.

"You ready for bed yet, babe?"

He meerly nodded his head, opting for silence like he normally did. Silence. Years ago, Tango would have laughed had anyone told him he would choose silence more often than not. He could a week without talking, now, and it never phased him. His eyes went down, down the arms around his waist, and he instantly saw tattoos that weren't there. Again, like normal, his eyes closed, fighting the tears he was tired of letting fall. They did no good anymore, they did nothing but show everything that he was still hurting, when they all told him months ago that he needed to be over this by now. Did they not get that what happened couldn't just be "gotten over"? No, they didn't. Sure, the person had meant a lot to them, but not like they had to him. When they left, they took his heart. His reason for living.

The moment the arms unraveled from his waist he felt himself relax, his hands picking up the hat that he had been aiming for before the interruption. Fingertips passed over each letter, feeling the string and stitching under it move slightly as he did so, the yellow fading in places because of age.

"_Hey Steve, mind if I ask you a question."_

"Me minding has never asked you before. But shoot, what?"

"Why don't you wear your hat backwards anymore?"

"Because I'm not a teenager anymore. Why?"

"Just curious. You look younger with it backwards. It's nice."

"Why, Tango, if I didn't know better, I'd say you've been checking me out."

"Shut the hell up, dude."

A soft sigh left his lips this time as the hat fell from his grasp, his hands closing the box. Sometimes it changed, he would look at different items, but it always ended with that hat. He had seen it so many times, and with it came so many memories. That first kiss, how it had gotten in his way, so he basically ripped it from the other's head. The first time they actually went on a date, the hat was turned backwards like he had suggested, along with a mostly clean-shaven face, which had made him smile, because it made the youth in the other just that much more apparent.

The closest closed with a small click, Tango's arms wrapping around his chest as he moved forward, easing under the blankets of the bed. It still didn't warm him, not even when the arms wrapped around him once more, the figure curling against him. It wasn't the same anymore, cuddling up in bed with someone. That had lost it's appeal long ago. In all honesty, he would rather be alone than here with someone he didn't love. Had he ever loved them? No, not at all. It was a relationship built from convenience. He did it to keep up pretenses. He had to look like he was moving on, like the shooting wasn't still affecting him. The person beside him knew that, too, but they still insisted on trying to "fix" him. Couldn't they tell that he was broken beyond repair?

His free hand reached out, turning on his iPod that was resting in the docking station to his right, turning on the song that he fell asleep to each night, the lyrics taking over his mind as they so often did. "Just One more moment, that's all that's needed. Like wounded soldiers in need of healing. Time to be honest, this time I'm bleeding…" Another sigh left his lips as he curled his hands under his head, the arm around him seeming to fade from existence. The touch didn't comfort him, didn't stop the silent tears from leaking from his eyes. No, he hated to cry and to show that he wasn't better yet. He hated the fact that each night, he cried himself to sleep, but that wasn't going to make it stop.

How could he just stop wanting those strong, tattooed arms around him? He had been falling asleep in their embrace for almost two years. He couldn't tell someone how much he missed that slight tickle Steve's stubble gave him when the other's face was nuzzled into the spot where his neck and shoulder met. And the way those lips felt, pressing to his cheek, spreading a familiar warmth through his body? Nothing could compare to that, or warm him up near like those could. Those quietly murmured 'I love you''s were all he wanted to hear, but he knew it would never happen again.

Fate had given him a hand he would never forgotten. Having joined TAPS was fate, something he had never seen happening. Meeting his best friend there? That was just luck, honestly. Finding the love of his life in that best friend? It was all he could have asked for. It had taken them four long years before admitting how they felt to each other. From that point, they were inseparable. They were "Steve and Tango", and they were accepted together. For two years, he had been the happiest man alive. He had been married to the most.. The most caring, trustworthy, and loving person he had met. It seemed two years was all he was allowed to have, though. Just like that, the love of his life was taken away in a shooting, one the guy hadn't even been near anyway. He could still hear that phone call he had received…

"_Is this Mr. Dave Tango?"  
__**  
**__"Uh, yes it is. How may I help you?"_

"Sir, I'm sorry to tell you this, but we have a Mr. Gonsalves here…"

"What? Where is here?"

"He's at the hospital. Sir, he was in a shooting in downtown Warwick. He's not in good condition and he's asking for you."

"You're… He… Yeah, tell him I'll be right there."

Steve had passed away just two hours after he had made it to the hospital. He could still feel the male in his arms, shaking his slightly as that unbearable grief gripped at his heart. He hadn't wanted to believe it. He wanted so much for his partner to just wake up, to smile however weakly up at him and tell him to calm down. But he never saw that smile again, unless he was dreaming.

Raising one of his hands, he swiped at his wet cheeks, his eyes closing once more. Tango accepted two years ago, when the shooting happened, that he wouldn't be happy again. How could someone be happy when the person they loved got ripped away from them? But he made a vow to continue living. It was a pitiful existence, but he was trying. Every night he would cry himself to sleep, listening to the song that was played as their first Dance at their wedding. He would continue to work at TAPS, though he couldn't use his red headphones anymore; he bought navy blues ones instead. Every night, he would look through the box of possessions he still kept of his ex-husbands, so that they would help his mind remember those happy times, and bring them back to him in his dreams. It was in those dreams where he got to see that face, and where he could still feel that warm, tight embrace that he missed. It was those dreams that kept him living, making it through each day.

"I'll love you, babe."

The words weren't meant for the person behind him, but for the person above him, the one he could still feel looking over him, protecting him. And as he started to slip into that darkness that he welcomed, he was once more rewarded with seeing the male standing in front of him, holding his hand out towards him. His eyes took in the tattoos on his arms, thankful that he had yet to forget what ever single one looked like. And the moment that Steve opened his lips, letting the all too familiar phrase slip through? Tango knew that he would cherish these next few hours he got to be in his dream world.

"_I'll always be there for you, Mi vida"_

"_Steve? What does Mi Vida mean?"_

"It means 'My life' in Spanish. Because that's what you are."

"_I love you, you know."_

"I love you too. You are my life now."


End file.
